Delusional
by hiddlestons
Summary: "She tells herself that he's going to come back, if not for her, then for Harry."


**A/N: Written for Round Three of Hogwarts Online's Quidditch Tryouts.**

**Theme: Prison Break**

**Prompts: "There are demon's inside _and _outside these walls...", shadows, dancing lights, and blood curdling howl.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own.**

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"_This delusion is kind of a prison for us…"  
_-Albert Einstein

She tells herself that he's going to come back, if not for her, then for Harry.

They sit together near the smoldering fire, with her quietly reading a well worn, leather-bound book with puffy eyes, and him brooding silently with his hands clenched tightly together. His knuckles are white from the tenacious force he exerts on it. But he doesn't let go.

The fire isn't really that big tonight, but they both know that they're going to have to make it bigger soon. The start of the cold chill begins to settle on them, and they can feel the air getting colder and a wind starting to pick up. Hermione knows that Ron's disappearance hasn't been healthy for her. _Hell_, it hasn't been healthy for either of them.

A crack coming from the fire breaks the petrified silence and sends hot, ignited sparks up into the dimly lit sky. The stars aren't out tonight; they haven't been for the past two days. It's like they were swallowed up by the shadow the Second Wizarding War had cast, and fled to a darker, safer haven where they wouldn't have to be afraid of what's to come. Hermione wishes she could do just that, flee to somewhere safer where she won't have to deal with this, but she knows Harry needs her. And she needs Harry.

She looks up from her lap and pulls her hair back behind her ears, hair that once used to be a curtain, shielding her face from the rest of the world. "It's getting really dark, Harry." Flickers of dancing light from the fire reflect off his glasses and light his eyes up, giving them their usual spark, but only for a second. Soon enough, they return to that dull look again. She knows that her eyes must look the same, but she remains strong on the outside. Strong so that Harry can be strong too, and strong so that Ron might come back.

_Maybe, just maybe._

It's been six days, nearly a week, since Ron left, and she starts to feel a bubble of despair rise up in her throat, but she quickly swallows it away. _He's not gone, he just left for a little bit and he's going to come back_.

But Hermione knows that it's no use trying to console her heart and her irrational fears.

And Harry knows that it's no use trying to tell Hermione to really talk to him.

The week passes, and Harry is quite sure that Hermione is delusional now. There's been no signs of Ron wanting to come back but she still has that hope, that hope that he_ will_. And he's worried about both of them. _Is Ron safe? Is the Burrow still standing?_

This time, the fire that accompanies them as they sit outside in the desolate wilderness is a dancing demon rather than a small flame, kind of like that raging inferno inside Harry that sparks up whenever he think about how Ron left them.

But he's still worried about his best friend.

Sighing heavily, Hermione turns the last page and jots something down into another leather-bound book, a journal this time. Closing it, she gets up and heads into the tent.

Hermione trips over the entrance and stumbles in, grabbing onto the canvas wall of the tent. Just as she does, a blood curdling howl shatters the night once again. Limping back outside with her wand hand, she turns around, eyes darting from left to right, searching for the offender. Seeing none, she limps to Harry with her wand still raised. She knows better than to let her guard down this early.

"Harry-" she warns quietly, "what was that?"

He looks up at her and raises his wand. "Look."

Hermione looks up at him, rather than in the direction he's shakily pointing at. His eyes are just like they were back in first year after he had seen Voldemort kill the innocent unicorn, crazed and delusional.

"W-what?"

Finally, she looks away and sees what he's gesturing at. She sucks in a breath. On the other side of the protective charm are the remains of what looks like a wolf, torn apart from limb to limb. Her fingers twitch as she itches to find out what, exactly what could have done that. It has to be more than another mere wild animal, _it has to be._

Shuddering involuntarily, Hermione snatches up her wand from where it dropped onto the floor and chides herself for letting that happen. Sitting down next to him, she rolls her wand between her forefinger and thumb and rubs his arm softly. He just looks down at the ground and his voice sounds weak and shaky. "It's just that-" his voice cracks a little bit, "there are demon's inside _and _outside these walls, Hermione."

"I know, Harry." She bites her lip as she looks up at the dark sky. She scoots closer towards him and he tosses a stray twig from the ground into the fire. Hermione watches as it ignites, but then slowly dies away. That twig must have been wet. She watches it lose the spark and feels her heart lose that little spark too.

"He's not coming back, is he?"

Harry's eyes are sad as he looks up at her, and he shakes his head. And so, they sit in the exact same position that they were in when Ron first left; the only difference is that he's sitting closer to her now, and his hands aren't clenched so tightly together.

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**A/N: Please review.**


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